


WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT COOPER

by darkandlightentwining (Phantomfluffandstuff)



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Duality AU, For season 3 at least, Harry/Dale but not very shippy, Long one shot I guess, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Not completely planned out, Picks up right where season two ends, Possession, split personality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-19 22:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15519969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantomfluffandstuff/pseuds/darkandlightentwining
Summary: What if, instead of there being a "Good Cooper" and a "Bad Cooper," there was just the one Dale Cooper, over whom the forces of evil within Twin Peaks were fighting desperately, against the good, to control.In other words, what if what happened to Leland Palmer happened to Cooper, and our favorite FBI agent was possessed by BOB?





	1. The Breaking of the Mirror and What Followed

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! It's me again! So, I started this thinking it might be short, but it just keeps sort of going on and on, so I don't know where it will end. But I have a lot written already, so I thought I'd go ahead and post it here and see what you guys think of it. It's pretty dark so far, and I can't say how much darker it will end up getting, so just be aware of that. And unless the end of this story takes a turn that I don't think it will, it's probably not going to be very Season Three compliant (but who needs Season Three anyway, right? Jk) 
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, here you go! Disclaimer: I don't own Twin Peaks (the characters, plot, town, the whole works), nor do I own We Need To Talk About Kevin, after which this is named.

When Harry first saw Special Agent Dale Cooper, he was sitting on the floor, he eyes searching intently throughout the room, brow furrowed in thought. In his hands, he held a shattered shard of glass from the mirror, his thumb occasionally stroking over the sharp edge, leaving a bloody trail in its wake. His finger continued its varied repetition as Harry looked on and as Cooper continued to scan the room, until a drop of blood fell from his finger onto the floor. Cooper didn’t even seem to notice. Harry felt a chill run down his spine.

“Cooper!” 

As if he had just been drawn from a trance, Cooper started, his eyes taking a long moment to move from the base of the sink to Harry’s face. From behind him, Harry heard Doc Hayward let out a sharp sound of surprise at Cooper’s bleeding forehead. Harry had never seen anything like it before. The agent appeared to be confused-- no. He appeared to be lost, as if he did not recognize his surroundings, nor anything else around him at all. There was a far away look to his eyes, a blankness that Harry found unnerving in the face of a man usually so focused, so in control of himself. And then, there was the blood that was slowly beginning to run down his forehead and the chunks of glass scattered around in his hair, sitting there like a dark crown. 

Harry was scared. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, although he knew that answer couldn’t possibly be ‘yes,’ because the Cooper he saw sitting in front of him seemed only a shell of the man he had once knew. 

Cooper said nothing, but simply stared, his brow creased. His thumb continued moving up and down the razor-sharp edge of the glass. More blood dripped to the floor. 

“Agent Cooper, what just happened?” Doc Hayward asked from behind Harry, the concern evident in his voice. “Did you fall?” 

“Fall,” Cooper echoed, his voice dead and stiff sounding. Harry could not tell if he was simply repeating the words or affirming them. Then, with a shake of his head, he clarified, “Yes. I fell.” 

His gaze switched from Harry’s to meet Doc Hayward’s eyes, blinking rapidly as he did so. His lips parted uncertainly, and Harry wondered for a moment if he meant to ask something. But no words came. Only Cooper’s heavy breathing. 

“Cooper, you’re bleeding,” the Doctor said after a moment, and Harry thought briefly that he was glad to have a man with such a skilled profession in medical school to point of these things to them. He shook off the thought as quickly as it came-- there was no humor in it or the situation itself. 

Cooper’s frown increased as he looked, for the first time, at the damage he had been doing to his finger against the side of the fragment of glass. He let out a soft exclamation of ‘Oh,’ and dropped the shard to the floor, where it shattered into a million more pieces. 

“Your head too, Coop,” Harry told him, wondering if Cooper even knew the full extent of injury he had suffered. Judging by the look on his face, Harry guessed not. The other man’s fingers brushed lightly against his forehead, only to be drawn quickly away when they felt the wetness. He stared at his hand as if he had never seen blood before. 

“I fell,” Coop repeated, his voice still slow and uncertain. “I must have fallen. But I…” 

He looked from the Doctor to Harry as he began to rub the blood around all over his hand. It was then Harry noticed that his hands were shaking horribly. Not only that, but his breathing was coming in short, shaking gasps. 

“But you… What?” Harry prompted him, realizing the agent was likely not going to speak again on his own accord. Something was visible off about him, but Harry was not sure exactly why. It must be that place that he had gone into, the strange, horrible place-- the curtains in the woods. That must have been the reason for it. 

Cooper’s hands ceased their movement, both of them being nearly completely red with his smeared blood. Cooper replied to his hands, “But I…. I don’t remember.” 

_Oh no._ From behind him, Doc Hayward said in a voice fraught with shock, “You don’t remember?” 

“No.” Cooper shook his head, and the vaguely lost look that had been etched into his every move since Harry had entered the bathroom was suddenly replaced with an intense desperation and fear that Harry had never once seen on the FBI agent’s face. Something was horribly, horribly wrong. 

“I don’t remember anything. Harry,” Cooper switched his attention solely to Harry, as if imploring him to understand. “I don’t remember how I got here. I don’t remember what happened. Not to my head, not anything. I don’t even remember where I was before this…” 

He broke off with a sudden gasp as if the full understanding of what he had just said had only just hit him. He pressed his bloodied hands against either side of his head, and began massaging his temples as his breathing began to come and go faster and faster. And although he blinked it away almost immediately, Harry felt sure that he saw a wetness in his eyes. 

“Agent Cooper.” The Doctor moved from behind Harry to beside Cooper, where he knelt with one hand on the agent’s back and another working to slowly remove his hand from his face. “Can you tell us the last thing you remember?” 

One hand fell from Cooper’s head and the Doctor began to work slowly on the removal of the other. “I…” He took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. “I… I was... “ His voice broke and he began to shake his head violently from side to side. “No. No. No. No. No.” 

“Agent Cooper!” 

Cooper’s hands began to shake again, more rapidly, his breathing came once more in desperate gasps. His fingers, desperate for something-- anything-- to hold on to, began to claw his pajama shirt from his body, leaving smears of blood wherever they touched. 

And then, as suddenly as it had started, it all stopped. His fingers ceased their motion, the distress left his eyes only to be replaced by a cold blankness, and his breathing slowed so rapidly that for a moment, Harry was afraid that he might have stopped altogether. It was as if something had possessed him, had drained all of what Harry and Doc Hayward had just seen from his body. Fear began to snake through Harry again, and he crouched to the floor to join the Doctor. 

“Coop...?”

Then, Cooper began to laugh. But it was not like any sort of laughter that Harry had ever heard come from him before, save from a few moments earlier behind the closed door of the bathroom just after they had heard the crash. Cooper was not the sort of man who laughed often, but when he did, it was a warm, full sound. This-- _this_ was cold somehow, chilling, all the warmth stripped from it. It was unnatural, and Harry suddenly thought that he ought to be as far away from this man as possible. 

Cooper began to tip his head side to side as he stared at something invisible beyond what Harry could see. It reminded Harry of the way a snake moved as it was being charmed-- the slow, rhythmic pattern that seemed almost like a dance to strange music no one else could hear. Harry was about to do something as Cooper threw his head back, his laugh morphing into some kind of howl, but as he was deciding whether he should strike him, cuff him, or simply grab his hand, the agent quieted. 

“Cooper...?” Harry asked again, a pit forming in his stomach. Who was this man sitting in front of him, wearing the skin of his best friend?

The gasping rushed back, as did the desperate, shaking hands, and once more, Cooper was trying to claw the shirt from off his back.. “I don’t know what I last remember,” he said, his voice surprisingly even despite the rest of his body’s language. “I don’t know.” 

It was as if he had not laughed at all. He simply continued as if it had never happened. There was no space between his words, no explanation. He turned back to Doc Hayward, and Harry jerked his shirt back onto his back. “Help me, Doc,” he heard Cooper say, and suddenly, Harry felt very afraid. There could have been a million logical explanations for what was going on, but somehow Harry knew none of those were right and that what was happening here was something worse-- far worse-- than anything Harry could imagine. 

“I’m trying here, Agent Cooper,” the Doctor said, shaking Harry from his thoughts. “But I need you to help me too, so we can see what the trouble is. What’s the last thing you remember? It’s okay if it’s unclear, but I need you to think.” 

“Okay.” Cooper’s back shuddered as he breathed. “Okay, Doc.” Time passed in silence for a moment as Harry and the Doctor waited for something from Cooper. Then, “The... the-- the trees. The trees.” He turned. “Douglas firs, Harry. I was in the woods.” 

“What were you doing in the woods, Agent Cooper?” Doc Hayward asked carefully. “Can you remember?” 

The agent cringed, turning back to the Doctor. “No. I-- Yes. Yes, I was walking… It was dark… And I was walking but I didn’t have a flashlight. And… and… Harry!” He turned again. “Harry, you were there… And you were telling me something… Something important…” He searched Harry’s face but the Sheriff only nodded. 

“That’s right, Cooper; I was.” 

“Yes… But I don’t… I can’t remember anything else.” Cooper continued to stare at Harry, brow creased in thought.

“Harry,” Hayward peered around the agent to see Harry. “Does this sound at all familiar to you? Do you know what he’s talking about?” 

“Yes, I do, Doc,” Harry replied, not breaking Cooper’s stare. “It was two days ago, right before he disappeared.”

“Everything is so jumbled,” Cooper said, shaking his head again, turning back towards the other man. “Nothing makes sense.” 

“It’s okay, Agent Cooper. We’ll make sense of it all in time,” the Doctor said with a smile that seemed more uneasy than confident. He glanced back to Harry before speaking again. “I think you might have a concussion. We should get you to the hospital. You’ll be in good hands there, Agent Cooper. The staff loves you.” 

“Do they?” Cooper eyes brightened for a short moment. “And the concussion is from the fall, I’m guessing?” 

“I think so, yes,” the Doctor supplied, and Harry’s eyes strayed to the shattered mirror above their heads. “Do you feel sick at all? Like you might vomit? Or pass out?”

Cooper shook his head. “No. I… How did I fall, Doc?” 

Harry answered the question before the Doctor could respond. “Well, Coop, you wanted to brush your teeth, so you came in here while we waited outside. Then, all of a sudden, we heard this crash-- like glass breaking-- and we heard you laughing. When we came in here, you were on the floor, and that’s all there is to it.” 

“You heard me laughing? Why was I laughing?” 

Harry sighed and dropped a hand on the agent’s shoulder. “You tell me, Coop.” 

Cooper said nothing in reply, only continued to stare into the space in front of him, his brow furrowed as he tried to answer a question that his mind had no memory to explain. 

Harry decided it would be better not to mention the other episode of laughter, and given the Doctor’s lack of speaking, he must have decided the same thing. Something was seriously wrong with the FBI agent, and regardless of whether the reason for it was just a concussion or something far worse, Harry had no desire to concern Cooper anymore than he already was. 

“We can use my car,” Harry said, standing and offering a hand to Cooper to do the same. “Now, let’s get you to the hospital.”


	2. What Happened to Josie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry's first visit to his hospitalized friend is described...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks an important landmark in my life because it's the first time I've ever posted off my phone instead of my laptop. Hopefully, the formatting won't be weird or anything, but I think everything should be just fine. If not, let me know! And I hope you enjoy this next installment...

When Harry saw Special Agent Dale Cooper again, it was a day later in the Calhoun Memorial Hospital, where Cooper had spent the whole of that day. Harry wished he could have visited him sooner, but with everything going on, there was endless paperwork and other such things that needed to be done at the Station, and Cooper had been fast asleep by the time he had finally gotten off work. Even now, however, he had not been given the luxury of coming to see Cooper on his own time, as a friend, but on the Station’s time, as the sheriff, due to a serious complaint that had been called in concerning his friend. Or maybe complaint wasn’t the right word-- it was more a call for help than anything else and Harry, as both Cooper’s best friend and as the sheriff, was the right man for the job.  


When he pushed through the swinging doors of the hospital, there was a deep-rooted anxiety he felt concerning Cooper that had nothing to do with his job. The call he had gotten had been concerning, to say the least. He had been in the office, trying to figure out who (if anyone) he ought to call over Windom Earle’s disappearance and assumed death when the phone had rung. The nurse told him that Agent Cooper was ‘acting up,’ as she put it, to which Harry replied that he hardly saw how that involved him. It was only when the nurse told him that she thought Cooper was in need of a pair of handcuffs, because his bedside restraints weren’t working, that Harry grew concerned.  


The more he spoke to the woman on the other side, the more serious he began to realize the situation was. Cooper had, apparently, been going through episodes of what the nurse described as “almost seizure-like fits” and “temporary psychosis,” that, she assured him, the hospital was more than equipped to deal with… usually. But, she told him, after he had bit a nurse and managed to rip both hands free of the restraints during an ‘episode,’ she thought Harry ought to be notified, more because Cooper was a menace to public safety than anything else. So, Harry had come and again, that feeling was beginning to gnaw at his gut, telling him that there was something deeply, horribly wrong with Cooper-- something far worse than a concussion. He brushed it off, but the feeling lingered.  


“Sheriff Truman.” A sharp young nurse bustled over to him the moment he stepped through the door, introducing herself as the same nurse who had called him earlier-- Lindsay.  


“How is he?” He asked, barely bothering with any of the other pleasantries he knew he ought to have addressed.  


“Not good, Sheriff Truman, I’m sorry to say. The concussion seems to have derailed some of his mental processes in ways that we’re still trying to figure out. We don’t have the money for a CAT scan, but we’re working on as we speaking, Sheriff. We are also running verbal and physical tests to determine the extent of his injury. The doctor says he thinks that your Agent Cooper just suffered a severe concussion when he fell. Severe concussions can and often do alter a patient’s personality in odd ways, so that is to be expected. We want you to know right now that you shouldn’t be at all concerned about his behavior. Although it might be upsetting for you to see, medically, it’s no cause for extreme worry.”  


“Then why did you call me in?” the Sheriff asked, his eyes searching the curtained room, trying to guess which one Cooper was in. They looked the same.  


The nurse followed his gaze, staring at the curtained room, hiding the sick from their eyes. “Well, to be frank, Sheriff Truman, your agent, as I said on the phone, has proven himself to be a menace to public safety. One of our nurses had to get stitches from the wounds he inflicted on her. I know he’s your friend, but we’ve decided to treat this case as we would any patients prone to violence-- which to say, with handcuffs. It will make the atmosphere he is currently in far safer for both himself and our nurses. But, we also think it could be good to have someone who knew him well to take a look at him and judge his mental state.”  


“I don’t know much about medicine, Lindsay,” Harry said, not entirely clear on what she meant for him to do.  


She smiled. “We don’t expect that from you, Sheriff. We just want you to see him and tell us if you think he’s acting according to character, so to speak.”  


“I can do that,” Harry told her, and yet, he was afraid to see what he find when he visited his friend. He just wanted everything to be back to the way it was again-- Cooper with his odd, focused brightness and serious, calming demeanor. He didn’t deserve this after everything he had been through already-- Annie’s kidnapping, that place in the woods he had disappeared into, and all the rest. Cooper was a good man-- one of the finest Harry had ever met-- and he should have had nothing but the best.  


When they came to Cooper’s room, he was sleeping. Harry loathed to wake him when he looked so tired and when there were such dark circles already etched under his eyes, but before he could volunteer to come back later, a nurse was shaking him awake. He came to after a few long moments, his mind clearly in desperate need of sleep. When he finally met Harry’s eyes, the Sheriff could tell he wasn’t all there without hardly looking.  


“Cooper.”  


“Harry?” Cooper stirred somewhat, his eyes brightening as he shifted into a sitting position. “Thanks for dropping by. I’ve missed seeing you around.” He sighed wistfully. “I miss the Station, Harry. I miss the forest air.”  


A brief smile crossed Harry’s face. He had been expecting the worse-- maybe another unnatural, laughing Cooper like the one he had seen on the bathroom floor-- but this one was just like the one he had always known, if not a little tired. Nothing in his countenance seemed to indicate any cause for worry, nor any change from the kind, mild-mannered yet down to business FBI agent.  


“Yeah, I know you do, Coop. You’ll be back again in no time. Just recover quick, okay?”  


“Yeah.” Cooper nodded in agreement. “I’ll try. The nurses are keeping me here.” He glanced at one of the nurses standing close by before turning his attention back to Harry. “They’re a lovely crew, Harry, but I need to get back. There’s work to be done. And I don’t feel too bad either. A little tired-- yes-- but not enough to keep me in here for as a long as they have. It’s nothing that a good cup of hot coffee can’t cure.”  


Harry frowned. Something wasn’t adding up. “Cooper, the doctor thinks you have a concussion. A severe one. You need to recover before you can do anything else.”  


“Yes, I know what the doctor thinks.” Cooper shifted closer to Harry, his brow furrowed as he whispered with an earnest conviction into Harry’s ear, “But I’ve had a concussion before, Harry, and it didn’t feel like this.”  


Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose as Cooper drew away from him, that intelligent expression he knew so well looking right at home on the agent’s face. “Maybe so, Coop. I don’t know what a concussion feels like so I can’t give an opinion. But listen-- you bit a girl, Cooper. A nurse, and she had to get stitches. That isn’t normal.”  


“What?” Cooper shook his head. “What are you talking about, Harry? I didn’t bite anyone. I would never do anything to hurt even a single one of these lovely women who are doing everything in their power to take care of me. You must have me confused with someone else.”  


“I don’t think so.” A sick feeling churned into Harry’s stomach. “They called me here because of it. You’re hurting people, and I don’t know if it’s all part of the concussion, or--”  


“Stop right there, Harry.” Cooper held up a hand and Harry stopped. “You mean to tell me that I… _bit_ a nurse? I have no memory of doing that at all.”  


Harry closed his eyes, suddenly feeling deeply exhausted. “I don’t know what to tell you, Coop. I’m just telling you what the nurses have told me, but they say it’s all part of the concussion.” He put a hand on the agent’s shoulder and Cooper posture softened a bit. “Do you really not remember anything like that happening?”  


“No, I don’t,” the other replied, whatever small happiness there might have been in his person leaking away. “Gosh, Harry, I feel so awful. I would like to apologize to this nurse, if at all possible.”  


“That’s nice of you. I’m sure we can arrange that at some point, but there’s something else I came here to talk about, as much as I would love to tell you I came here only as your friend.”  


“Harry.” Cooper clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You can talk to me about anything-- anything at all. I am an open book. I have no secrets.”  


Harry cleared his throat and briefly took in the rest of Cooper’s plain, curtained room. “I don’t know how to say this, but the reason I’m here is because I got a call from a nurse saying that you’ve been having episodes…”  


“Like the one where I bit the nurse, I’m guessing.” The hand fell from Harry’s shoulder.  


“Yes.” Harry found himself wishing that Cooper would put his hand back on his shoulder. Even an action as subtle as that one reminded him that Cooper was still his old self, and the warmth his contact offered made him feel at home. “And apparently, the restraints here at the hospital aren’t keeping you… well, restrained. They want me to handcuff you, Cooper, just in case anything happens. I hate to do it, because I know in your normal state you would never do anything that would require you to be restrained, but I think this is a necessary precaution.”  


There was a tangible tension in the air between them as Harry waited for Cooper’s response and prayed that the agent wouldn’t fight him or have another mood shift. But, just as Harry was about to apologize for the precautions he was having to take, Cooper spoke:  


“I agree with you completely, Harry. I don’t want to hurt anyone else. Here.” He held up his wrists with a complete submission and the Sheriff, not wanting to waste any time, grabbed one and cuffed it to the side of the bed before hardly a second had passed.  


“I would have done the exact same thing, if I were you,” Cooper added as Harry attached his other hand to the metal railings of the bed. “Don’t feel bad about it at all. We are men of the law, and the law takes no exceptions.” He shook his cuffed wrists and the ringing of metal on metal sounded unnaturally loud within the sickly quiet of the hospital. “Nice and tight.”  


“Good.” Harry managed a stiff smile. “Look, thanks for understanding. I know this whole situation hasn’t been ideal, and that it must be pretty crazy for you, but thanks for not making things difficult.”  


When Cooper smiled, despite the circumstances, it looked truly genuine. “I’ve been an FBI agent for seven years. I know it can be difficult and I don’t plan on making your life any harder than it has to be, Harry.”  


He held up his left hand then, inspecting the cuff, but, as Harry looked on, Cooper’s hand began to shake. Maybe it had before then, but by the time Cooper held up his wrist, it was so noticeable that for a moment, Harry thought the agent was purposefully shaking his hand again to test the cuffs. It wasn’t until Cooper said a flat, ‘oh, look at that,’ that Harry realized the shaking was involuntary. The phrase ‘seizure-like fits’ flashed through his mind.  


“Cooper…” Harry reached out gingerly to take his hand. “Are you okay?”  


He squeezed Harry’s hand in reassurance, and the tension coiled in Harry’s stomach lessened momentarily. “Of course, Harry. I don’t know what--”  


Then, Cooper began to choke. Or, at least it sounded like he was. Horrible, gut-wrenching sounds came from his throat as he suddenly began to thrash around madly in his bed, his nails digging into Harry’s hand so deeply that the Sheriff felt the heat of blood on his wrist almost immediately. He shot up into as much as a standing position as he was able with Cooper’s hand still grasping his, panic surging through him.  


“Nurse! We need help with Agent Cooper! Nurse!”  


Cooper, meanwhile, continued to thrash about while his sounds morphed into something eerily similar to a hiss, almost animalistic in nature. His nails tore at Harry’s hand so violently that he got the distinct feeling it must be intentional. Desperately, the Sheriff tried to tear his hand from the agent’s grasp, and only managed to do so with long, deep scratches all across his hand.  


“Nurse!”  


As the nurses began to run towards the room, Cooper dragged his still unchained feet underneath him and began to push himself forward as if he had every intention of breaking off the cuffs on his hands. The hissing changed to screaming. The bed shook from side to side so violently that Harry had to hold on to it to keep it upright. The nurses poured in, four at once, accompanied by a security guard, as Cooper continued to move like a man possessed, shrieking and howling at random. Siliva oozed from his mouth. Fear shone through on the nurses’ faces.  


“I don’t know what happened,” Harry was telling one of them, his eyes still trained on the horror that was Cooper. “One second, he was fine, and the next--”  


“Harry!” Cooper screamed, simultaneously interrupting Harry’s words and all action in the room. The nurses all stopped the moment he spoke and stared at Cooper, dumbfounded, as Harry waited, equally frightened and disgusted.  


“What happened to Josie, Harry?” Cooper began to laugh as he shook his head from side to side, but his eyes remained narrowed and cold. One of the nurses began to cry. Shock rolled over Harry at Cooper’s words. And then, hatred. Anger. Clear, cold anger that demanded a response. Never had Cooper-- nor anyone else for that matter-- dared to taunt him over Josie’s death. Never had he tossed around her name so casually, so cruelly, like it was only dirt in his mouth.  


“What happened to Josie, Harry?” Cooper laughed harder and harder, throwing his head back in apparent glee. “What happened?”  


Harry could feel his pulse pounding in his ears. He balled his hands into fists to keep them from shaking but to no avail. The blood was sticky in his palm. The monitor said that Cooper’s heart-rate was racing-- faster, faster, faster. Harry could never hurt Cooper.  


“What happened to Josie, Harry?” His words were hardly distinguishable through his laughter. Finally, one of the security guards began to move, his hands attempting to pull Cooper back against the bed. The nurse began to cry harder. Cooper’s heart-monitor flashed urgently. _He couldn’t hurt Cooper._  


It was just as the guard tried to shove Cooper back onto the pillows. The agent shook out of his grasp, his laughter suddenly stopped, his heart beat climbing higher and higher with every passing moment. Suddenly, his face was inches away from Harry’s, all the cold mirth gone from his eyes, foam dripping from his lips, every vein in his face bulging.  


“WHAT HAPPENED TO HER???” Cooper screamed, his spittle spraying across Harry’s face. A sickening thunk followed as Harry slammed his fist into the side of Cooper’s face. The next thing he knew, he was being dragged from the curtained room, the sound of hissing fading behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, well, well, what do you think about this? Let me know! And I have a fair amount of this already written so I'll probably be updating sort of consistently for a while at least.


End file.
